


i named your eyes "forever" and "please don't go"

by entirely_too_tall



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, also sudden accidental confession of marriage plans, am i projecting?, at the time of the offer too, being black is so difficult, cus she had a boyfriend for crissake, employment search is a bitch, i had a friend offer to me once and i turned her down, i love you but honey that's too much, the one where being foreign is a big deal, you betcha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 01:09:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12097407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entirely_too_tall/pseuds/entirely_too_tall
Summary: Ransom, a Canadian, runs into some issues with his visa and employability. This is the real life, y'all. Love in the time of immigration.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was very overwhelmed by the update ok. I saw Ransom and Holster in their new office together and [they looked like they were holding hands](http://ohjustletmewriteinpeace.tumblr.com/post/165347967684/jack-manpain-zimmermann-asterlark-did-yall) and [switched ties between graduation and in the office](http://ohjustletmewriteinpeace.tumblr.com/post/165346802604/halfabreath-ransom-and-holster-own-exactly-two) and they were gonna [live together](https://jack-manpain-zimmermann.tumblr.com/post/165350088995/wtfcheckplease-a-p-a-r-t-m-e-n-t-h-u-n-t-i-n-g-t) and they were just too perfect. So I had to add Drama.
> 
> This is me projecting everything I had experienced with looking for a job post graduation having given up on grad school. There's another planned chapter of more angst, and hopefully I can figure out a happy ending after that.
> 
> Title from "She Keeps Me Warm", by Mary Lambert.
> 
> Check Please and its characters belong to Ngozi, I am only expanding upon it for our collective non-commercial pleasure.

Their first week in the office had been fantastic. Ransom and Holster came into the office and were sat down with all the paperwork, had two days of training with the rest of the incoming new graduates, and settled in to befriend every single person in the company that had a Facebook account, which was everyone. Even sweet old Imelda, the janitor from Guanajuato, Mexico, was added. They got along swimmingly with everybody, naturally. 

 

The work was new and different, with Ransom and Holster learning still learning the ropes to managing their respective projects, when Dhivya from HR came around to Ransom’s desk. 

 

“Justin can you step into my office real quick?”

 

“Sure thing. Now?”

 

“Yup, and bring your IDs with you please.”

 

That’s odd. Holster shot Ransom a questioning glance, but Ransom didn’t know any better. He shrugged and made a face, and went after Dhivya.

 

A half hour later found Ransom sitting down at his seat next to Holster, looking very shaken. Holster recognized the look Ransom was giving and exclaimed, “Holy shit, that is coral bleaching. Do we need to go somewhere? Not sure if we can handle a full blown coral reef mode right here.”

 

“No need… maybe… yes?” Ransom croaked, unsure. 

 

“Ok, we’re going on an early lunch break. Jackie,” Holster turned to the other new hire at their shared open desk, “If anyone asks, we went for an early lunch break.”

 

Without waiting for any acknowledgement, Holster guided Ransom up and out of the office down to his jeep in the carpark. Once settled in the seats, Holster looked at Ransom and waited. He knew from experience that it’s better to wait, that prodding will only make it worse. 

 

After some excruciating minutes, silent and laboured, Ransom finally spoke up. 

 

“I can’t work here. HR said my justification wasn’t valid.” 

 

“What?”

 

“The visa thing. I’m only allowed to work in jobs ‘directly related to my field of study’, and since app startup consultancy project management isn’t bio, I can’t work here. My appeal was denied.” Ransom sounded hollow, defeated. 

 

Holster didn’t know what to say. He had literally zero understanding of the visa system that Ransom and Jack had to navigate to legally stay or work in the states. 

 

“Is there anything we can do?” Holster asked, after Ransom fell into quiet again. It was dangerous, he knew Ransom could deteriorate with talking, but he got desperate. Exam stress, hockey stress, captaining stress, Holster knew how to handle. But visa stress was a whole nother ball game and he felt useless.

 

“No, fuck! We had it all so perfect!” Ransom was getting agitated again, raising his voice. “We found a job that would take both of us, we found an apartment together, we were getting a dog! Holtzy I was getting ready to settle down for a couple of years before worrying about med school or jobs!” 

 

“Alright, alright, so you can still hang around at home looking for jobs. We don’t need to work together, I'm still gonna be here for you.” Holster reached out to put a comforting hand on Ransom’s shoulder, but Ransom was in a mood and shrugged his hand off. 

 

It frightened Holster a bit, when Ransom was like this. It reminded him of that week in March when they bickered about Ransom not going to med school. He didn’t like it then and he didn’t like it now. They had few serious arguments and he didn’t want his lack of understanding to come between them.

 

“I don’t have much time left… I have less than a month of unemployment days left before my OPT dies out. Did you know how long it took me to get my first interview? I sent in 37 resumes, excel says, before I got my first call. I sent in over 60 resumes and got 3 calls total. I can be 4.0 summa cum laude and hiring managers take one look at fucking Oluransi, a Nigerian name, and throw out my resume. You got 6 calls out of 8 resumes you sent, half of them you didn’t even want.” Ransom was on a tirade, and Holster was kicking himself inside for never having considered the goddamn racism that made his life so much easier and Ransom’s so difficult. 

 

“My favourite are the ones that log you out of the job application when you check the box for ‘Do you need visa sponsorship now or in the future?’ They see that I have visa requirements, that they don’t even need to manage! They don’t put a single dime down for my visa, but see that I have one, and won’t even consider me. I cried when they gave me this job, you remember that. I cried so bad because I never thought they’d hire me, and they probably did only because you talked me up.” 

 

Holster was near tears at this point. God, he was so blind. He didn’t even realize how much of a difficult decision this must have been for Ransom, to give up the certainty of med school to try his hand at consulting. He should have noticed, should been more supportive from the start, shouldn’t have been so hard on Ransom for being brave enough to take this leap. Fuck.

 

“I’m so sorry bro, shit. I’m so sorry I was hard on you, and that you have to go through all this bullcrap, and I can’t do anything about it. I can’t —” Holster stopped, having suddenly realized a way he _could_ help.

 

“Can’t what?”

 

“Wait, what if we marry. Like a green-card marriage? People do it all the time right?”

 

Ransom was not impressed, by the look he was giving Holster. “Seriously, _this_ is how you propose? In my moment of desperation and weakness?”

 

“Uh…” There were a few implications in those questions Holster was not ready to parse.

 

“I mean I’ll say yes but…” Ransom was suddenly shy, embarrassed almost.

 

Ransom was going to say yes to Holster if he asked. That’s news. Suddenly the comment about the perfect job and house and dog, and “settle down” were the exact words Ransom said, it all made so much more sense.

 

Holster was only half freaking out at that revelation, the other half being that he _did_ plan to propose, a few years down the road. He was secretly relieved that they managed to stick together after graduation. He was going to spend their time together, just the two of them, with as many could-be-bromantic-could-be-romantic moments as he could manage, to properly woo Ransom outside of the hectic student-athlete life. 

 

“I… might have… had ideas. Plans. For us. Two. Together.” Holster says, facing the gear shift, unable to bear looking at Ransom in the eye.

 

“Bro, I… why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Ransom’s voice was soft, questioning, with hurt and hope both edging into his question.

 

“You were with March and I didn’t wanna come between you two. We were gonna live together and have time, and I was willing to wait anyway.” Holster said, suddenly bashful. This was not how he envisioned his day. He thought about going home together, stopping by that small market on the way for challah, snuggling on the sofa and deciding on which shelter to visit to get that dog they wanted. And here he was now, offering to marry his crush for citizenship benefits. G-d works in mysterious ways and he would rather the ways be more straightforward thank you very much.

 

“I…” Ransom started, then switched tracks. “I am not having this conversation right now. Nope. We’re doing this later.” His tone was clipped and that was the end of that, Holster supposed.

 

“We wouldn’t make it in time anyway. Even if we married today, it would take anywhere between 2 to 6 months to get my green card, and I’d be deported by then. They literally have people ask you about things like ‘how long have you known each other’ and invasive personal shit to verify you’re actually marrying for love and not just the citizenship.”

 

“Not saying that we wouldn’t pass with flying colours, but we are kinda doing that…” Holster joked, and Ransom shoved back, so he must be feeling better.

 

They sit in silence for a while longer, until Holster’s stomach let out a long growl, which sent them both into laughing fits. 

 

“Alright, let’s go get lunch for real, yeah? Where you thinking?” Holster turned on the engine while wiping a tear away from his eye.

 

“Burgers at the steakhouse. I’m gonna have to eat my fill of American cuisine, before I leave the country never to return to the delicious beef-filled world.” Ransom said, the humour wrung out of him slightly desperate. Holster gulped.

 

“Ok. My treat.”

 

It concerned him deeply that Ransom didn’t argue that like he usually would. Holster wished the world for Ransom, but he can’t wish anything into reality. He can only be there for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://ohjustletmewriteinpeace.tumblr.com).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene snuck up on me, they were supposed to cut to dinner at home immediately, but I guess that'll be the next chapter.

Ransom and Holster went back to the office, and while Ransom sadly packed up to go home, Holster went to bargain with their supervisor Nathan, so that he can leave early to go home with Ransom. The pitying looks from people around them only made Ransom feel worse, but that's immaterial at this point since he won't be seeing them again.

 

Ransom didn't actually take more than 15 minutes to finish gathering his stuff, since he hadn't been in the office for more than a week (he's had this seat for all of 3 days, goddamnit). Holster got the A-ok from Nathan, who interviewed them both and recommended their hire. He was really sad to hear of Ransom's situation, and even offered to help scout for open jobs if he heard of any.

 

As they walked back down to the jeep, Ransom steeled his face, managing to hold on to his composure all the way until they had the door shut. Then, once Holster was behind the wheel, Ransom pounded a fist on the dashboard and let out a choked sob. It finally hit him, that he's going to be unemployed. Not again, he was never really hired, and won't get paid for this days in the office. 

 

This all sucked, sucked balls. Holster reached out to rub a comforting hand across Ransom's shoulders, and Ransom didn't hold back anymore. He didn't need to. He lunged across the center console and mashed his lips agains Holster's, seeking the distraction of desire, seeking to drown out the pain with any pleasure afforded to him.

 

But Holster gently cupped his hands around Ransom's cheeks and pulled him away, his eyes shot through with hurt. It looked like disappointment. Ransom understood. He didn't want to, but he understood why he shouldn’t. 

 

He wanted to be taken away from thought, from feeling. His anxiety always made his emotions too intense, and he’s learnt not to drink them away. He ended up taking advantage people for sex instead, using them to blunt his fears. Thankfully, Holster had confronted him about it, and he’s learnt to be a better man and partner after he started seeing March. And now he had done it to Holster. It was enough to push him over the edge with guilt and grief.

 

Ransom let loose a sob, then it became loud, anguished wails. If the crying when he got hired was vindication that he could direct his own fate, his crying now was the fate judging him unworthy. He dared to choose a path different from what his parents laid out for him, and now he was being punished for this hubris. 

 

He felt himself being pulled in to a tight hug against Holster’s chest, strong arms wrapped around his back. His tears soaked through Holster’s shirt, but neither moved to pull apart. They stayed that way for countless minutes, each one crawling into the next, as Ransom moaned through the throes of his loss.

 

Eventually, Ransom calmed down, exhausted. He wanted to keep staying in Holster’s comforting embrace, but his back was twisted in a weird way and he was getting uncomfortable. He pulled back to his seat and laid his head back with a thump against the headrest, leaving his eyes closed. 

 

He heard Holster turn the engine on, but the car stayed still. Before Ransom can open his eyes or ask Holster why they weren’t moving yet, he felt a kiss pressed to his cheek, gentle and slow.

 

“We’ll get through this, figure something out. I love you.”

 

Ransom turned to catch Holster on the lips, this time taking it slow and putting his gratitude and love back into it. It was chaste, but sweet. He meant it this time. From the way Holster leaned in instead of away, he knew that this was what they really had: care, concern, support.

 

“I love you too, Holtzy. Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Come talk to me about immigration (by that I mean let me vent about the stupid system) on [tumblr](http://ohjustletmewriteinpeace.tumblr.com).

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://ohjustletmewriteinpeace.tumblr.com).


End file.
